


Morning Light

by Kiraly



Series: Kiraly's 100 Fics Prompt Challenge [11]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drawing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Naked Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil likes to draw Lalli in all kinds of light. But mornings are something special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> So _someone_ (you know who you are) made a comment on [page 584](http://sssscomic.com/comic.php?page=584) about wanting all the fanfics and fanart of Emil drawing Lalli sleeping. Well...no fanart yet, but this little fic wormed its way into my head. I figured if I'm going to beg for fluffy Cute Boyfriends AU fic about these two, I should contribute some myself.  
>  (I tried to work in a "draw me like one of your French girls" reference, but didn't quite get there.)
> 
> Also fills prompt #3 for the prompt challenge - Light.

Emil wakes with the sun, as usual. He blinks without moving, allowing himself a moment to enjoy his surroundings. He’s always been one to appreciate little luxuries: the smooth fabric of the sheets against his bare skin, the clean lavender scent of his pillow, the knowledge that he has no responsibilities and nowhere to be today. Best of all, he has someone to share it with.

A smile brightens his face as he watches his still-sleeping boyfriend. He likes to look at Lalli any chance he gets, but mornings are something special. He never knows how he’ll find Lalli upon waking—wrapped tight in a blanket cocoon, or sprawled on top of the covers, or cuddled close with his head under Emil’s chin. Sometimes, after a bad night, Emil wakes to find him huddled under the bed. But today he’s curled loosely on his side, with the blanket pushed down to show off his chest and shoulders. The early sun filters through the window behind him, bathing him in a halo of gold. Emil drinks in the view for a long moment, then reaches for the sketchbook on his bedside table.

The first movements of the pencil are fast and rough, not at all fitting for the subject matter or Emil’s mood. Still, there’s no way to know when Lalli will wake, so speed is essential for getting those first marks down. Even if Lalli is willing to pose—which he is, more often than not—his attention would change the nature of the drawing. Awake, Lalli is all firm angles and intense eyes. Emil loves those eyes, has drawn them countless times and will never tire of drawing them. Loves Lalli’s awkward, angular poses, too; the man is grace personified when he moves, but when forced to stay still he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs.

Sleeping Lalli is a different creature altogether. There’s a fluidity to the shape of him, a softening of features that is not entirely due to the morning light. It’s this softness that Emil strives to capture. Gradually, as the drawing takes shape, his lines grow less frantic. He allows himself to take more care, smooth out edges and lavish attention on the little details. The shadow in the hollow of Lalli’s throat. The delicate eyelashes, so light they’re barely visible. A tiny discoloration between the neck and shoulder, a souvenir from last night. Emil puts all of this on the page, smudging with his thumb when needed. 

Eventually his time runs out, and so does his pencil lead. But it doesn’t matter, because the drawing is done. Emil raises his eyes from the paper to meet his boyfriend’s gaze.

“Finished?” Lalli inquires. His whispery voice is thick with sleep, but he pushes up on one elbow willingly enough when Emil nods. He claims a kiss, heedless of morning breath, and hitches himself over to snuggle against Emil’s side. “Show me?”

Emil shifts until he can hold the sketchbook while also wrapping an arm around Lalli. “The light was perfect,” he murmurs, “it’s too bad you weren’t awake to see it.”

“I see it now,” Lalli says. He smiles, the same tiny smirk that arrives every time he sees one of Emil’s drawings. Emil is never quite sure if Lalli likes looking at the art, or if he just likes the idea of Emil looking at him. He’s not sure he really cares.

“Yes, but you can’t see what I see. The drawing only captures so much.” Emil sets the sketchbook aside and runs a hand through Lalli’s hair, carefully working out the knots. “Morning light really suits you.”

Lalli rolls his eyes, but he leans into Emil’s touch. “You think  _ every  _ light suits me.”

“Am I wrong?”

Lalli doesn’t answer, just looks at Emil with that little smile of his. Emil can’t decide which he wants to do more—memorize the way the sunbeams caress the planes of Lalli’s face, or touch that face with his own two hands. Eventually he gives in to the second impulse. “Am I?” he prompts again, rubbing his thumb against Lalli’s cheek. It leaves a smudge of graphite. Artist’s mark.

“Hmm.” Lalli brings his arms up to drape over Emil’s shoulders. “You’re the artist. You tell me.”

Emil draws close and puts his lips to Lalli’s ear. “I love you in every light,” he whispers.

Lalli doesn’t answer with words, simply puts his mouth—and Emil’s—to a different use. It’s the only response Emil needs, really.


End file.
